Christine Stoddard

Christine Stoddard

Bio

Originally from Virginia, Christine Stoddard is a Salvadoran-Scottish-American writer and artist. She also is the founding editor of Quail Bell Magazine, a place for real and unreal stories from around the world. Her art and stories have appeared in Cosmopolitan, Bustle,The Huffington Post, Vivala, The Feminist Wire, the New York Transit Museum, Philly Fringe Fest, and beyond. She also is the author of Hispanic and Latino Heritage in Virginia (The History Press, 2016). In 2014, Folio Magazine named Christine one of the media industry's top visionaries in their 20s.

Christine Stoddard Articles

Children make me giddy, whether I’m on the subway or in the park. Image: Adrianna Calvo/Pexels.

When None Of Your Feminist Friends Want Kids

Most of my friends are my age or slightly older and yet virtually none of them want children… ever. They argue that women deserve respect and autonomy over their bodies. I passionately agree. A few of these friends are, like me, engaged or married, but even they don’t want kids. One of my engaged friends says she and her fiancé may want to adopt children later in life, after they’ve had the chance to travel extensively.

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By the end of the first haunted house rehearsal, I knew the job would truly test my abilities to carry my body and voice well.

 Working At A Haunted House Was Better Than Therapy 

Before I became a haunted house performer, I thought having my face touched was one of the creepiest things imaginable. But it wasn't the eerie set music or the beheaded baby dolls that changed my definition of scary. It was what went on in the green room.

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All illustrations by Kristen Rebelo

My Encounter with a 'Non-Racist' in Fear of a Black Neighborhood

Black—the whispered word in educated, politically correct, upper middle class society.

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Though my father meant it as a compliment, the word “othered” my mother, younger sisters, and me.

When Your White Father Calls You "Exotic"

For years, my white father called my mother’s beauty an “exotic” beauty. When I started to come into my own, he began calling me “exotic,” too. It wasn’t until high school that I began to understand why this word bothered me. Though my father meant it as a compliment, the word “othered” my mother, younger sisters, and me.

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After wearing glasses since fourth grade and contacts since high school, I was eager to see the world unassisted. Image: Liam Welch/Unsplash.

Life After LASIK: Seeing The World On My Own Terms

I was shivering and sweating. What if the procedure didn't work? What if I had serious complications? What if I had to come back?

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"Our wedding took place one May morning, outside of a historic house that overlooks the river running through our college town." Image: Pixabay, Veton Ethemi

I Am An Artist Who Married Young, And I Feel Like The Only One

In art school, conversations about the merits of polyamory thrived, but hearing anyone express a genuine desire to get married almost never happened. It was almost taboo. The implication was, how could you want something so traditional? So suburban and unimaginative?

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Emotionally, there were times I longed for a hint of my Salvadoran heritage in my name.

Why My Immigrant Parent Gave Me Such An “American” Name

Plenty of Americans have names that don't convey their full cultural background because, at this point, so many of us are mixed up. How could our names possibly communicate all that we are? But when the time comes for an interracial, interethnic, international couple to name their child, they're often faced with a political decision.

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"When I told my husband that his relative comfort on a city street is evidence of his male privilege, the look on his face implied that this was news to him." Image: Thinkstock

Explaining To A Man What It's Like To Be A Woman And Afraid

My now-husband was stunned the first time I told him what I do while walking alone. I mentioned behavior typical of so many city-dwelling women: carrying pepper spray, checking my back every block, trying to look confident while struggling to properly breathe. After a moment of silence, he teared up and said, “I don’t want you to have to worry.”

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These days, I shave most of my body hair by choice. On the days (or weeks) that I don't, that decision is just as much my choice. Image: Thinkstock.

Why I Was Late To The Shaving Game

I tapped the razor on the side of the sink and inspected my smooth legs for any missed spots. Then I rinsed the blade, washed my hands, and put on my outfit: a long-sleeved black top, a knee-length denim skirt, tall black boots, and a silver dragon necklace for good measure.

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image credit: Thinkstock

Love It? Hate It? Vocal Fry Is Everywhere

I cringe when Kim Kardashian opens her pouty lips because I know the onslaught of vocal fry

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